Based on the novels by J. K Rowling

'…that's Marlene McKinnon…they got her whole family'-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, p. 158

1

Bee, head tucked into her breast against the tart acidic wind and the swirl of dirt and grime it had disturbed, slid quickly through the door, shutting out the jarring cold.

Through the small, larger-stained room, passing smoky huddles of threes and fours, she walked towards the bar. The only part visible of the barkeeper was the ridge of his back over the counter.

She stood between two unoccupied stools. 'Excuse me-' she said loudly, absently adjusting her Tam O'shanter with her right hand. Abruptly the barkeeper straightened up and made a show of wiping his hands down on a tea towel before he negligently tossed it to the side. 'I really need to use your Network.'

'Huh.' The barkeeper scratched the cleft in his chin. 'That's easily done' his smile gleamed in his craggy, lived-in face. 'Do you need it right away or can I first draw you a pint?'

'Oh no' Bee shook her head firmly; 'I'm in a terrible hurry.' She with the hand she'd used to pull down her hat she retrieved an unremarkable beige pouch from the inside pocket of her full-length, sheep-skin coat. 'How much does one handful cost?'

'Forget it, it's on the house. Here-' he reached up to take down a bulging bag on the shelf above the bar, the sleeve of his knitted cardigan sliding a couple of inches down his weathered arm. 'I've never had it in me to deny a lady anything.' He offered her full accessibility to the powder, but as she only needed a fist's worth, that was all she took.

'Thank you, thank you, thank you,' Bee said hastily. The fireplace was set back into the rough stone wall and Bee hurried towards it. Her new barkeeper friend raised a gnarled hand in salute.

'You'll come back when you have more time?'

'I'll try,' Bee said feeling obliged to politely lie before being engulfed in a flare of green.

A slow night, Rosmerta had the time to hold a barely interrupted conversation with Con, a regular who did most of the talking. 'What's your take on this business between Dumbledore and Fudge? For my part, I just can't quite believe that Dumbledore would use such underhanded means to challenge Fudge's leadership, after all, he was offered the position of Minister years ago but chose to stay on at Hogwarts-'

'Personally I try not to think about it' Rosmerta said. She left the three half poured pints to stand for three minutes as tradition dictated. 'It's just all so-'

'Madame-'

'-sordid.' She finished before reacting to the interruption. She turned a face to her left. 'Yes?'

'Pardon the interruption,' she looked between around sixteen years old and terribly cold, 'but I'm looking for Dumbledore and it's really kind of urgent.'

'Well, I can tell you for sure that's he not at the Castle tonight-' she frowned concernedly over the glasses on the counter, 'are you alright love?'

'Damn' Bee said, responding only the first half of what Rosmerta had said. She looked down at her red boots with a wrinkled nose. 'No chance I could borrow an owl to send off a letter is there?' she pitched the last part with a toothy, grimace-smile.

Rosmerta kept a quill and a notebook beneath her counter for stock keeping purposes. The only ink she could find was her favorite aqua blue. She pushed them across. 'And there's nothing else I can do for you?'

'I don't reckon so,' she sighed, 'but thanks all the same.' She sucked her bottom lip as she wrote in a hurried scrawl.

Rosmerta looked around at the stoically empty tables as her owl arrived in a flutter of brown and gray. Bee folded up the piece of paper and handed it over. Secured in her talons the owl rose again to flight without preamble. 'Why don't you find a comfortable place to sit and I'll bring you over a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits while you wait.'

'That does sound nice' she agreed, rocking back on her heels. 'Can you show Professor Dumbledore where I'm sitting if we miss each other?'

'I'm sure that won't be a problem, but I promise I will all the same.'

Con raised his eyebrows at Rosmerta once the girl had gone. 'What's that about do you think?'

'I'm not sure. Poor thing did look quite desperate didn't she?' Rosmerta returned distractedly to the order of the three, hunched over patrons in the far corner; she filled the pints and smoothed down the heads. 'You know, it's odd but I could have sworn that I could recognize all the students up at the school-Still, her face is somewhat familiar-'

'Probably doesn't get out much' Con suggested wisely, the affect diminished by the foam of his larger painting a stripe along his top lip. 'I knew a few of them myself, back in the day. It's a shame with her though-'

'Well, it doesn't matter much anyway,' Rosmerta passed him over a napkin. 'I'm sure that Albus will be able to sort everything out. Now, I'll just deliver those gentlemen there drinks then pop around back to put on her tea-'

Her tea sat resentfully, half-drunk in the cup. Outside the window the stars grinned mockingly down at her. She tried to conceal her anxiety but the arm she shot up when Dumbledore walked through the door belied any sort of calm she'd taken the effort to feign adopting.

'Professor!' Bee called, half starting from her seat but then changing her mind and slumping back down.

Dumbledore walked over to her, his face straining with barely covered wonderment. 'May I?' He gestured at the empty seat across from hers.

''course' Bee waved impatiently.

Dumbledore hesitated a moment after sitting down. 'I must say that your letter was-' he paused, 'exceedingly unexpected' choosing his words carefully.

'Well yeah, I know it was your holidays and all, but-'

'Miss McKinnon' with deliberate care Dumbledore extended his elegantly long hands across the table and dropped them down on top of hers. 'I apologize for my abruptness but I need you to tell me precisely what happened.'

Bee frowned, 'you mean, what I said in the note?' She took a moment to consider before she spoke. 'Well, we were all in the parlor-'

'Who exactly?'

Perplexed, Bee blinked. 'Um, there was me, Lockie, ma and pa-'

'Your entire family,' Dumbledore observed in an under-tone.

'Well, yeah' Bee agreed, confusion mounting. 'Anyway, we were all in the parlor, listening to the WWN for news of the attacks. Ma especially I think. Benjy was supposed to come around for dinner but-' she stopped and began to stare at black speck that swam around on the surface of her tea. 'And, well that's it really. I mean, maybe I fainted or something because I was on the floor a blink later and don't remember falling or anything. No one was around either and all the furniture, the pictures, it was all gone. Even Fergus.'

'Fergus?'

'Oh, my crup. I've had him since I was six.'

Again Dumbledore hesitated before speaking. 'Are you certain that is all you remember? There's nothing else?'

'No, I'm positive that that's it.'

He withdrew his hands when he leant back in the chair. 'I must say that this is entirely without precedent.' His fingers joined to form a steeple beneath his chin. 'I'm forced to admit to being completely at a loss. My dear child-' Dumbledore melded the last two sentences almost completely together, 'I really wish I had something more to tell you.'

'You're not serious are you?' Bee demanded with two newly made fists on either side of her knee cup, 'can't you even help me find my family?'

Dumbledore studied her and then, deciding to speak further, sighed. 'Brigantia, one of the reasons I was so amazed to receive you letter was that an attack was made upon your family. I'm afraid that, aside from yourself that there were no survivors.'

'That was my first thought,' Bee admitted, trepidation expanding like a balloon in her gut. 'But, I realized that it's impossible, I mean there were no bodies, no Dark Mark-'

'I'm afraid that the explanation is most upsetting. You see, the attack on your family occurred on the 23rd of December, Nineteen-Eighty.'

'That's today' Bee said, beginning to tap a frenzied beat with right boot beneath the table.

'No, it's not.' Dumbledore reached out to her again. 'My child, while it is indeed the 23rd of December; it is now Nineteen Ninety-Five.'

'Nineteen Ninety-' Bee started to repeat it but the numbers clogged in her throat. 'No. No way. That would mean-' she couldn't restrain the hysteric part cackle part heave that tore from her throat; 'that I'm thirty-two years old! How the hell could fifteen years have passed and I don't remember a single second of them?' gradually her voice crescendo-ed until barely intelligible. She took a breath, held it and then took another. 'I'm sorry' she drew in a deep breath, looking back down at her tea, where little clusters of minute bubbles had formed. 'It's just…you see how insane this all sounds don't you?

'Please, don't apologize.' Dumbledore said gently. 'This is an awful shock and-'

'Do you think maybe we could stop for now? I'm really tired.' Bee interrupted, looking over his shoulder at a painting on the far wall, a glistening of sweat on her forehead. Numbness had enveloped her entirely.

Dumbledore looked from her face to the heavy, tan overcoat doubled-over on the arm of her chair. 'Of course. I'll take you up to the school with me.' He stood up and helped her into her coat, after which he offered her his arm. Bee spared him a fleeting quirk of her lips while she hooked her elbow through his, not having to school her face into becoming expressionless as he led her towards the door.

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